nine2five 2,5 I Love Terror
by Marc Vun Kannon
Summary: Aisle of Terror, get it? Volkoff has a Fear toxin to sell, and Frost needs her son to pose as the buyer. But does she have darker designs in mind for the mysterious Mr. Charles?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N **Well, this chapter, at least, is moving right along. A number of glaring issues from canon that had to be fixed, as usual, and some changes due the whole nine2five context.

* * *

"_Frost is alive?"_

"_I'm not afraid _for_ my mother, I'm afraid _of_ her."_

"_That bitch is poison."_

"_Hello, Chuck. It's…your mother."_

* * *

"How did it go, Frost?" Volkoff was alone in the room, working on a puzzle, a little downtime from running an international criminal empire. Frost had gone off to LA, to negotiate a sale personally, since the capture of Sofia had reduced his ranks. This item was special enough to warrant his best.

"We had to abort," she said, sounding surprised. "I'm not sure what's going on here, but the Castle team has become a competent adversary. They had the meet site staked out. The next available meet is in DC, in two days time."

"You said they had a new AIC over there," said Volkoff, who heard everything she said even when it didn't look it.

"That's what I heard, but their agent roster hasn't changed, and no one got promoted."

He didn't raise his head at the correction. "You'll figure it out, Frost," he said, sounding confident and unconcerned, almost blasé. "Anything else of pitch and moment?"

"Packard and his men have all been captured, Alexei," Frost reported at her most neutral. She could never be sure how he would take any news. Without her there, she couldn't tell how he would take anything.

Alexei didn't look up from his crossword. "Just as well we never trusted those bungling incompetents with any operations of real worth." He looked up, and smiled at her through his webcam. "Good call there."

"I'm not so sure about that, sir." 'Sir' was always good. "From the information I've been able to gather, I believe their plan had some merit. I may have underestimated them."

Volkoff looked up again, scowling this time. "I'll have none of that, Frost. Don't go putting yourself down because greed motivated those…" He paused in sudden confusion. "What's another word for idiot?"

In spite of the _non sequitur_, Frost rose to the challenge, as usual. "Uh…dunce, cretin? Moron?"

"Ah, simpleton, that's it," shouted Volkoff joyfully, writing in his puzzle. "Now, where was I? Right. Those idiots may have surpassed themselves for greed's sake, but they did get caught, let's not forget that."

"By Mr. Charles," said Frost, looking a little unhappy.

Volkoff put down his pen and disposed of his paper, as he did all things when they ceased to serve or amuse him. "Mister Charles." His rumble had a sibilant note to it, like sand in a tornado. He turned his full attention to the monitor. "How many times have I heard that name, Frost?"

"Twice, that I know of, Alexei." She watched him carefully, wondering how many times it had been for him. She wasn't his only source of information, by any means.

"That's too many. Marco was loyal, Packard was greedy, and he defeated them both." _And_ _Boris was ambitious, _but Volkoff was willing to let sleeping Borises lie. He had far larger concerns. Mr. Charles now knew about Vivian, and wanted Frost. That couldn't be allowed to happen. Even getting rid of him would be a risk. "You'll have to kill him."

Frost shook her head. "I don't want to kill him, Alexei."

Was even Frost betraying him now? "You don't?"

"He's too good, too successful. He's kept you from taking your rightful place in the world." Frost leaned close, in the monitor. "I need to _destroy_ him."

* * *

Chuck stood in his kitchen, paralyzed. Shock? Fear? Surprise, or longing? All of those, none of those? He reacted on instinct, spinning away, moving back into the isolation of the kitchen. With one hand holding the phone by his ear, he raised the other, fumbling to press the little stud.

"I need to see you," said his mother, bringing silence to the outer room as both Sarah and Casey turned as one.

* * *

In the bedroom, Carina paused in mid-sentence, her hand going to her earpiece. She didn't need it, but she'd felt naked without it, down in Costa Gravas, and not a _good_ naked, either.

"Agent Miller, what's the matter?" asked Beckman. Rogue nukes, even disarmed, were a matter of the highest urgency. Anything that interrupted their recovery had better be critical.

"Someone's talking on our comms."

* * *

Chuck turned in the shelter of the kitchen, saw his partners standing by, as always, his friends and family behind them, curious and concerned. He made a hand gesture, then pressed the stud again as Sarah and Casey went to check the grounds front and back. "Is this some kind of joke, Mom?"

Ellie paled.

* * *

"He called her 'mom'," said Carina. Was this the woman she'd spent months gallivanting all over the world to find? Must be a 'son' thing, certainly the little bit of her voice that she'd heard didn't have Carina all that motivated to mount up. Distant and demanding, not a trace of warmth or affection. A spy's voice.

Beckman scrapped all of her intentions. Not something 'critical' in the grand scheme of things, but to this team…"Frost?" No way they'd let this go to another team now. On the other hand, somehow Chuck was able to make being compromised work for him, and they were all compromised as hell.

Carina nodded. "Idiot, you don't have time for that," she muttered, distracted by two conversations at once. She looked at Beckman. "She wants him to meet her in a park, one hour."

"Frost is in Washington?" Beckman considered her logistics. This rogue agent was clever, cutting the time so close. She couldn't possibly deploy backup in time.

Carina laughed, staring into space. "Tell no one? A little late for that, should have said that right off."

Beckman suddenly had to imagine the kind of contortions Chuck must be making to do what he was doing, and made a note to have comm broadcasting ability built into all agents' phones.

Carina continued heckling the air. "Oh, yeah, he's gonna come alone. Not."

"Not even for you, Mary," thought Beckman. _Especially not for you._ When it was clear from Carina's behavior that the call had ended, the General toggled her own mike. "Everyone, meeting in one minute."

* * *

Frost put her phone away and checked the target site again. Not that she expected Chuck to do anything except what she told him to do, but the difference between her and a lot of dead agents was that they hadn't secured their meet site at least once.

* * *

Beckman's eyes boggled when the screen lit up, but only for a second. Eight people gathered around the couch, somewhat more than half of them bona fide members of Team Bartowski. Fortunately they'd all signed all the paperwork they'd need to sign already, otherwise this would have gotten sticky. "Good evening, everyone. Chuck, my understanding is that your mother has contacted you, and demanded that you meet her in a nearby park in one hour, alone, for an unspecified reason. Is that correct?"

"Yes, General."

She wondered what kind of heat Chuck was prepared to take. "What are your plans to proceed?" _Look at them squirm!_ All was not happy in the Bartowski household tonight.

Chuck the Analyst stepped up to the plate. "I'll take the meeting, General, but not alone. Sarah will go with me as my backup." He paused, having gotten the easy part out of the way.

No surprises there. "And the rest of your team?"

He did what he had to do. "She had my phone number, General. I can only assume she has me under some kind of surveillance. The rest of my team will escort potential hostages and non-combatants out of harm's way, until it becomes clear that any danger is past."

Beckman noted the unhappiness with that decision on a lot of faces, not just agents' faces. Tough. "I concur, Mr. Bartowski. Colonel Casey and Agent Miller will escort your friends and family to reasonably secure facilities and stand guard until the situation is resolved. _You_ will do your part to make sure it is resolved in our favor, or at least not against us."

"Yes, General," said Sarah.

"Dismissed."

The second the screen went black all the civilians started getting ready to go, but Casey turned to Chuck. "You get killed, Bartowski, I'm gonna shoot myself and come after you."

Chuck drew back, wide-eyed. "Wow, that's incentive."

"Don't worry, Chuck," said Carina, standing to get her coat. "I'll take your in-laws home." She fluffed her hair over the collar. "That way Casey will have to choose between coming after you and leaving his daughter and Morgan alone, together, in an undisclosed and secure location for God knows how long…"

"Enough!" shouted Casey. He turned his glare on Morgan, while Ellie moved in on her brother as if he wasn't already planning to call her ASAP.

Carina flashed Casey a demure-yet-cheeky grin. "Just saying." She looked over to Ellie and Devon. "Ready to rock and roll?"

* * *

Sarah ran down the checklist before she allowed Chuck to leave. "Body armor?"

"Check. And a bulky coat to hide the fact that I'm wearing any."

"Tracker?"

He sighed. "All three." He could swear he still hurt where she'd shot the new bio-chip into him.

"Tranq shooter?"

A miniature blowgun up his sleeve, good for one shot. A Janitor named Babyface had one and Chuck decided he liked the idea. "Yes." He tipped his hand up, and a dart flew into the ceiling. "No."

Sarah helped him put on the spare. "FRODO Junior?"

"Yes. You know, these fake fingerprints really itch."

"You noticed that, did you? Maybe if you put them in gloves like Carina suggested, that wouldn't happen."

"Lightbulb," said Chuck, in lieu of snapping his fingers. "You know, if I put these in gloves…"

Sarah shook her head in wonder. "I knew you'd think of something. Okay, let's go."

"Hey wait a minute!" said Chuck. "What about you?"

"What, you mean my thermally-opaque bodysuit, matte body armor, government issue sidearm, night vision scope, signal tracker, and multiple braces of knives?"

"Um…yeah, those."

"I'm good." Sarah opened the door. "Let's go meet my mother-in-law."

* * *

Frost watched the car as it drove up to the parking lot. Only one person got out, walking from the car to the nearest picnic table. As she expected, he sat on the table itself, something he'd been doing since he was old enough to climb up there. She turned her vision on the woods around the picnic area, the logical place for watchers to hide. Nothing human-sized appeared, but with the trees and bushes that meant very little.

Phase one was complete. She pulled out her phone.

* * *

Sarah was in position long before Chuck ever got there. She'd driven them to the entrance very early, and gotten out to move stealthily into her position behind a tree. Only when she was set did she signal him to drive into the park, his hands barely touching the wheel. She listened as Chuck spoke with his mother, his phone equipped with a spare watch, placed so he could press the stud while holding it normally, in case she was watching. _No 'in case' about it._

Something moved into the open on Chuck's far side. "Look to your three o'clock."

Sarah raised her scope, and got her first live look at the woman who defined her husband's life by her absence. Average height for a woman, definitely recognizable from the photos she'd seen. Very much in control of herself and her surroundings.

"Meet me by the playground."

_Dammit._ The playground had no cover. The slide was the best she could hope for. Hopefully the visual chaos of the area should make it harder to pick her out.

* * *

Frost watched the playground, not any piece in particular but the pattern as a whole. The area was deliberately a place of patterns with an appearance of clutter and confusion, attractive to a child's mind, less so to a spy on the job. At night the colors were muted, the shapes still, and a person watching carefully could see shadows that weren't really shadows at all. Female, another one. Tall and blonde._ Oh, Chuck._

A mother's work is never done.

* * *

Something went click, and it wasn't a twig.

"And who are you?"

Sarah could have said a lot of things. Your daughter-in-law. Chuck's wife. But the voice was Frost-y in more ways than one and that put her hackles up immediately. She'd sounded like that once herself. "Wow, I didn't even hear a twig snap. You must have been doing this a long time." Chuck was nine when you left. You don't get to talk to him like that.

* * *

"You're calling me old." _Aw, such a sweet little thing, has it learned to walk yet?_

"Not old," said Sarah, dropping her scope. Frost had to look at it, if only to determine it wasn't a threat, and when she did, Sarah had her gun in hand. "Just slow."

Frost upped her assessment of her opponent, but didn't drop her guard or her gun. "Government-issued sidearm. What are you, CIA? FBI?" Not that she expected to get an answer this time either, not if either organization was training its agents to any kind of standard.

"Why did Volkoff send you here?" asked the blonde.

CIA. Of course. "Jumping to conclusions, are we?"

CIA didn't buy it. "Oh, I think my conclusions are pretty justified."

Let's see if she can see through the truth. "I am here because I need to see my–"

Then she was seeing him. Tall, like his father. Kind eyes, gentle soul. Motor mouth. Some things never change. "I told you to come alone."

"Yeah, about that, well, technically I did come alone. Let me explain." He turned to the blonde. "Sarah, this is my mother, Mary Bartowski." He turned back to his mother. "Mom, this is Sarah. Sarah Bartowski, my wife."

The blonde–Sarah shook her head, made her blonde hair dance _Ta-Da!_ and then Mary noticed the ring on her left hand. Oh.

"Please don't kill each other."

* * *

**A/N2 ** In canon they went from "I just talked to one" to a coyote howling. I found a lot more stuff to talk about in there.**  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N **Yet more gaps in the story that just cried out to be filled.**  
**

* * *

"_How did it go, Frost?"_

"_He called her 'mom'."_

"_Let's go meet my mother-in-law."_

"_Please don't kill each other."_

* * *

His wife?

_He was nine! He was her baby, she still read him fairy-tales before bedtime!_

Stop that.

She hadn't read him anything in twenty years. Hadn't read anything that wasn't a mission report. She'd deliberately kept herself apart from him and his sister, refused to know anything more about their lives than the driest, dustiest facts and figures could tell her. No emotional content was allowed, for fear that it would break her. As it was breaking her now.

His wife?

_This is a mistake._

* * *

Sarah watched the older woman's eyes, not the gun pointed at her. The eyes were the best way to know when and where the enemy was about to pull the trigger, or whether the mark was buying the con, but they were just eyes. She'd never believed that the eyes were the windows to the soul, until she met Chuck. Now she knew better, but old habits died hard.

How little his mother resembled her son.

Her eyes were blue, not warm, loving, chocolate-y brown. Clear but hard, like her own used to be but much more so. Yet her own had never looked like those, not in all the mirrors in all the hotel rooms she'd ever flopped in.

This woman was his parent but was she really his mother?

"Great," said Chuck. "Just great. I can see the…" he moved his hands back and forth, distracting her. "…connection already. BFF…facebook buddies." Frost surprised Sarah by taking her eyes off the target to glare at her son. "I'll shut up now."

Sarah stepped up, knowing how little Chuck could defend himself against the women in his life. That was _her_ job. "Did you honestly think he would come alone?" she asked, with a double helping of amused condescension.

Frost tried for some affronted motherly condescension of her own. "I thought maybe he would trust me."

"Okay," said Chuck, not looking at either one but surprising them both, "Considering that you left me when I was, oh, I don't know, nine years old, and I still don't know if you're good or bad, I think I have every right to have a mother issue or two right now."

* * *

_This isn't working. _The last thing she needed right now was a pissy little boy, talking back and saying no just to prove he could.

"You're right," said Frost, lowering her gun, apparently giving up the contest. "You're absolutely right."

"Thank you, thank you," said Chuck, sounding vaguely surprised. He turned to his wife, still braced to fire, and put his hand on her gun, pushing down. "See, no shooting necessary. None whatsoever."

As Sarah's arm went down to her side, her charm bracelet slid down from inside her sleeve, coming to a stop on her wrist.

Frost stared, not really hearing as her son started blathering on about something or other. Her bracelet, on the wrist of this little…wife. That's what she'd left it to him for, after all. All grown up. He really was–she looked up at him, and there he was, arm around the little woman, talking about bakeries. "Chuck!"

He wound down. "Or we could stay right here in this creepy dark playground."

Creepy? Dark? What kind of spy was he? They lived in the dark, and creepy was just a matter of perspective. After all the things she'd seen, or worse, done, this empty lot was a breath of spring. Dammit, she'd missed her moment, and now he was going on about chocolate, and even worse, his tenth birthday. "Chuck, stop! I don't want to know anything about you."

* * *

One dark, creepy briefing later…

Sarah drove. Chuck sat next to her, his fingers steepled before him as if in deep thought, meditation, or prayer. Really it was the fastest way to remove the tranq-coated fingerprints, short of tweezers and a mild acid solution.

He looked he might have preferred the acid right now. "Is that what this all boils down to, Sarah? Months of searching, and the only reason she comes to see me is to set up a meet? She knew about Carmichael, but she has to know Carmichael is dead. Do you think she knows about Mr. Charles? Why else try to get him to pose as the buyer?"

For someone who specialized in seeing the bigger picture, he sure could wallow in the details when he had a mind to. Not on _her_ watch. "No, the reason she came to you is because you are the only person she could trust absolutely with a weapon of this magnitude." _Assuming it really exists. _With his fingertips glued together she couldn't take his hand, but she did her best. "I know how she feels."

He started moving his hands, peeling the false fingerprints off. It couldn't have felt pleasant but he didn't show it. "What about Dad?"

"Not if she's serious about giving the Atroxium to the CIA she wouldn't." Her voice got soft. "And she may think he's dead, too. Maybe she had a video from him, same as you did."

"He knew how to contact her? He knew where she was all that time?"

"I said 'maybe', Chuck. It could have been a one-way blind drop. All we really know for sure is that she knows that you have the Intersect." Which would be bad enough, when they told Beckman. If they told Beckman. It would be almost treason not to tell, but possibly outing a fellow agent if they did. "Was she there when you did that first download?"

He watched as pilled-up fragments of plastic fell into his lap, shreds of an unused identity. "In the house? No. But she hadn't left us at that point. She was away a lot on missions, but she always came back to us. She had a lot more missions after that, though."

Sarah knew better than to ask where.

"I have to call Beckman," said Chuck, moving on.

* * *

"Thank God," said Casey, when the all-clear was given. "Grimes, time to go."

"You can go on without me, big guy," said Morgan, curled up far too closely to Alex as they scrolled through his photos of the Costa Gravas trip yet again. Casey'd already gone through them once, but once was enough.

He lifted Morgan off the couch by the collar. "First of all, Grimes, not in my lifetime. Second of all, this isn't some college dorm room. This is a secure FBI training facility, and our temporary security pass just got revoked."

In the locked privacy of his Crown Vic, far from anywhere, Casey said, "We need to talk about my daughter."

"You can let me out here," said Morgan, reaching for the door handle.

The car accelerated, the doors locked, and Morgan's seatbelt tightened. "I'm beginning to think you might have something to offer."

Morgan started to breathe again. "As a boyfriend?"

"No, as a photographer. Who picked the outfit?"

"That was Carina's idea…"

Casey grunted. _Thought so._

"But I want to tell you, big guy, I was a perfect gentleman. I would never disrespect Alex in any way."

Casey eased up on the seatbelt. "Relax, Grimes. I know you wouldn't."

Morgan rubbed his neck where the edge of the belt had cut in. "You do?"

"Yeah." Casey turned to look Morgan in the face, without slowing the car down a bit. "First of all, you live in completely justified terror of what I would do to you if you ever hurt her." He looked back at the road. "Second of all, I saw your photos."

Morgan mopped his sweaty forehead with his tie. "They _were_ pretty PG-13…"

"They'd be banned in thirteen countries, just from the outfit alone. But they were in a reasonably public place, and I checked the timestamps. You didn't have time to be anything _but_ a perfect gentleman. Good work."

His phone rang.

* * *

"Good evening, Agents," said General Beckman. "It's late so I'll keep this brief. Preliminary follow-up data is supporting the intel received from Agent Frost. We'll have everything we can find on Dr. Wheelwright in the dataset for tomorrow's upload. Pending the results of the Intersect analysis, I will approve the mission."

Sarah shifted in her seat. "Who will take the meeting, General?"

"Mr. Charles will, of course."

_No!_ "Chuck is not an agent!"

"Agent Bartowski, this toxin can shift the global balance of power. We must get our hands on it before our enemies do. Agent Frost has specifically requested Mr. Charles' presence at this meeting, and we dare not do anything to upset her applecart. Is that quite clear?"

"Yes, General, quite clear." The tone of her voice made Carina shudder.

"Good. Now, assuming we will need him, Mr. Bartowski has some level of acting experience, and he will need some coaching from the rest of you in his role. All that remains is to select a venue."

"How about Grimes' restaurant?" said Casey. "We've already got the staff in place."

Morgan looked wide-eyed at him. "Wait, Casey, what you mean, my staff? You've got CIA in my restaurant?"

"Colonel Casey, what is Mr. Grimes doing there?" asked General Beckman severely.

"We were holed up at Quantico, ma'am. On our way back now."

"We'll discuss this breach of protocol in the morning, Colonel, but, since he's already up to speed…Mr. Grimes, your country needs you, or more specifically, your restaurant. Can we count on your cooperation?"

Morgan leaned closer to the phone. "You'll have it, General." He'd just have to swap shifts, and not tell his boss.

"Thank you. Good night all. Chuck, I'll expect your report first thing in the morning."

Casey ended the call from his end. "You stepped up, Grimes. I like that."

Morgan laughed. "Of course I stepped up, dude. It's the least I could do, after you and your CIA guys got rid of my little alien problem."

Casey sighed. "Think nothing of it."

* * *

The day dawned fair and clear, the weather fine and calm. Morgan was yawning, as his remarkably efficient staff set about creating an outdoor café area where none had existed before, surprisingly unhassled by local law enforcement, considering they weren't zoned or licensed for such a thing. They'd even set up a station for the new blonde maitre d', outdoor variety.

Sarah looked good in glasses, but then she looked good in anything. Or in nothing, but Chuck was a problem solver at heart and he found her various outfits delightfully problematic. "Table for Mr. Charles," he said, as he approached the station, already wondering how they could acquire that outfit for her closet.

Sarah was professionally polite as she led him to his carefully rigged table. "Will there be anything else, sir?"

"Hmm, yes," said Chuck quietly. "Perhaps you can help me figure out why Volkoff would be going to all this trouble when he could make just as much money legally, selling that holographic laptop of his."

Sarah rolled her eyes, like a beautiful woman hit upon yet again would, and walked back to her station.

Her husband watched her go with appreciation, muttering, "It's a serious question."

"Some other mission, moron," growled Casey in his ear. "Remember to sit with your back to the wall. Your mark will be there any moment, so get established. You have to control this meeting."

* * *

Alexei Volkoff cursed as he checked all his options. That damned Mr. Charles wasn't facing any of the security cameras Frost had hacked into. Hopefully she'd make the show worth the while.

* * *

"Your wine, Mr. Charles," said Carina, looking entirely too good, even in her server's uniform.

"Thank you, doll," said Mr. Charles, leering at her. The wrong role for her, thought Chuck. Wait staff are supposed to go unnoticed, that's what Casey always said, but no one could fail to notice Carina. On the other hand, she kept Dr. Wheelwright nicely distracted. The chime of Chuck's glass against his jolted the man back to alertness. "Cheers."

A fast black car spun up to the curb, and a woman got out.

"Incoming," said Casey.

Sarah spotted her easily. "What the hell is _she_ doing here?"

Chuck ignored it all. They were the agents, his team. They would handle it, whatever it was. Then he looked up, and saw his mother approaching. _Crap._ It was no acting challenge to look less than pleased. "Miz Frost," he said, his strong accent oozing Southern…something. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

His mother looked…stunned, but shook it off quickly. "Toasting already?"

"Drinkin' and dealin' are some of the finest pleasures in life, that's what my daddy always said," said Mr. Charles. "Y'all did some fine work here."

"I know," she said, taking a seat uninvited. She poured herself a glass, and asked, "What are we toasting to?"

Dr. Wheelwright said, "The negotiations are going quite well."

"Well, here's to smooth transactions, then." She tapped her glass to his, but when she went to toast with Mr. Charles she unaccountably missed, spilling some of her wine on his jacket. With a cry of alarm, she picked up a napkin and daubed at it.

Chuck grabbed her hand and took the napkin. "Don't worry about it," he muttered in dark tones.

"Oh, but it's my job to worry about things, Mr. Charles," said Frost brightly. "Like the fact that you aren't who you claim to be." At Wheelwright's sudden nervous twitch, she said, "He's CIA. This is a trap." Before Chuck could stand or even move, she stood, drew her pistol, and shot him in the chest. He flattened against the wall, and sank to the ground.

Not that they bothered to watch. Frost grabbed Wheelwright by the hand, and turned to find them facing a sea of guns. "Don't fire!" she shouted, holding up a glass bottle full of blue liquid. "Shoot me and everyone for blocks around dies!"

The agents looked to Sarah, who shook her head. They backed off, and Frost herded Wheelwright back to her car as Sarah went to her fallen husband. "Chuck!"

He coughed, groaning as she pulled him a sitting position. He pulled his shirt apart and fingered the hole in the bullet-proof vest she'd made him wear. "She shot me, Sarah." He held up a deformed bullet, lodged very near his heart. "My mother just shot me."

* * *

**A/N2 **I have a plotline for Frost that makes her into a much more conflicted character than they really showed in canon. **  
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	3. Chapter 3

**A/N **Lots of good stories still being posted and expanded on the site, very good to see. This story has quite a way to go, too.**  
**

* * *

"_Did you honestly think he would come alone?" _

"_I have to call Beckman."_

"_You've got CIA in my restaurant?"_

"_My mother just shot me."_

* * *

The sleek black car sped through the streets of DC, to the third nearest parking garage. Her son's team–her son had a team!–had to have the plates and all from this car recorded, but the camera on this level wasn't working. They could switch here to a new vehicle and no one would know. She hadn't even fully stopped before saying, "Out."

"Yes, I am," said Wheelwright, flinging the door open. "The Americans know. You've ruined everything!" America would pay for his toxin, of course, but only to maintain the status quo. Other nations would pay a lot more to upset it. He walked away as fast as he could, but didn't make it far before his leg gave out on him and he fell to the ground. The tingling of the tranq dart spread rapidly, but not so fast he couldn't hear her walk up to him. He just couldn't stop her rolling him over. "What–?" _–are you going to do?_

She gripped his tie and pulled him up with effortless strength. "I'm going to teach you the real meaning of fear, Doctor."

* * *

Post-mission debrief, in a not-so-quiet Quiet Room.

"It was the right call, Agent Bartowski," said General Beckman. "Until we know the properties of this toxin more fully we can't take a chance."

Between the shooting of her husband and the betrayal by his mother, Sarah still looked ready to kill. That blue liquid may have been colored water. It may have done nothing more than leave a stain on the sidewalk. Or not. And she had to let her go…her duty got harder every day. "Yes, General."

Beckman continued, "On the upside, we now can be much more confident regarding Agent Frost's loyalties."

"Her loyalties?" said Chuck, amazement dripping that such a word could ever be applied to his mother. "She helped Volkoff's pet mad scientist escape with a nerve agent!"

Sarah smacked the table for emphasis. "And she shot her own son!"

"Take 'em off and untwist, Sarah," said Carina. "If she'd really wanted him dead she'd have popped him in the head."

"She couldn't have missed at that range," added Casey. "But she deliberately aimed for a spot she knew was protected."

Chuck flipped the ice-pack over and pressed it against his chest, grimacing. "Remind me to thank her."

Sarah's anger ebbed in the face of her husband's pain. She stood behind him and rubbed his shoulders. "Don't be bitter, Chuck. Of course you trusted your mother. In spite of all the lies and deceit, you still manage to genuinely trust people. It's what I love about you."

He looked up at her. "You don't love my dashing good looks?"

"That would be me," said Carina, raising a hand. "I'm the superficial one."

"I'm more interested in the computer in your brain, Mr. Bartowski," said Beckman, reining in the frivolity, once it served its purpose. "We need you back on line as soon as possible."

"Two fugitives and a dangerous weapon on the loose," said Casey, shaking his head. "Go team."

"Are you feeling up to it, Chuck?" asked Ellie.

Chuck threw the ice-pack on the table. "It's not like I have a choice, sis. We're behind the eight-ball here."

Ellie nodded, accepting her brother's word. "I'll get started on the upload, then. Manoosh has been data-mining, hopefully we'll have something good for you."

"Great, sis," said Chuck. "Let me know when you're ready."

"Kind'a pointless if she doesn't, don't you think?" said Casey as Ellie's inset screen winked out.

"They're called social graces, Casey," said Carina. "You should learn some. You might need them some day."

"When that time comes, Agent Miller, you shall teach him what little you know," scolded Beckman from on high. "Meanwhile…Colonel, Agent Bartowski, I suggest you review traffic cams and whatnot. Agent Miller, since you're still dressed for it, return to the scene and look for whatever clues may have been left behind. Dismissed."

* * *

"What was all that about, Frost?" asked Volkoff. When she was away he couldn't sleep, and given the number of time zones between them it's just as well he was up now."You said destroy. I could have had him shot at any time."

"If you want him you can have him, Alexei." Her voice sounded dismissive. "That little puppy wasn't Mr. Charles. I used to know his father. The CIA must be pretty desperate for agents to put _him_ in the field."

She didn't usually waste bullets on drones like that. "You shot him anyway."

"Using the toxin on him wouldn't have had nearly the same effect, and besides, I was being kind."

He couldn't recall seeing a 'kind' side but he knew her 'unkind' side was pretty messy. "Kind?"  
"Let him have a moment of glory before he trudges off to some hole in the wall."

Volkoff laughed. "He'll think of you fondly as he scratches his fleas." His joviality faded. "Speaking of fleas, what of the good Doctor?"

"I switched to plan B."

Her 'B' plans were…unkind. "He has my sympathies."

* * *

"Hey, Martin."

"Carina, hi! What are you, uh–" He wasn't so glad to see her that he let her shut the door, though. "What are you doing here?"

She shrugged. "Nothing the cleaner team hasn't already done."

"Oh," said Morgan, "That reminds me." He opened his lower desk drawer and pulled out a glass, inside a plastic bag. "I saved this from their table, it's the one she was drinking from."

"What for?"

"I thought you guys might want to dust it for prints, or check for poisons."

How cute. "We know who she was, Martin."

"Ah, but do you know who she was pretending to be?" He grinned triumphantly when her expression said no. "Huh? Huh?"

"Whatever," she grumbled, taking the glass just to get him to stop smirking. She leaned against the door jamb and grinned. "So tell me, did you let Casey see the photos yet?"

* * *

"Manoosh?"

Ellie stood to one side, let her assistant have the comm. "What's up, Chuck?"

"I just flashed on _Classics of the Horror Film_, More _Classics of the Horror Film_, _Son of Classics of the Horror Film_, and _Classics of the Horror Film Part IV_."

"Knew you'd like those."

"I haven't seen most of these movies. A little spoiler warning next time, is that too much to ask for?"

"Sorry, dude," said Manoosh, actually sounding a bit sorry. "But you know what they say. Mission first."

"Grumble, grumble."

"Complain, complain," said the other nerd, laughing. "Look at it this way. When you finally do see these movies, she'll be burying her face in your shoulder, not the other way around."

"Sarah doesn't do face-burying."

"She will when she sees Matango, Fungus of Terror. Some of those flicks are pretty cringe-worthy."

"Ah, at last I understand! They make the movie so bad that making out is an emergency measure to not see it."

"Exactly."

"That ever work for you?"

"No. Usually she just went home."

"You didn't follow her? Make sure she got there all right?"asked Chuck, with plenty of _wink, wink, nudge, nudge_ in his voice.

"Nah, I watched the film. I mean, come on, it's a fungus of terror, for God's sake."

"Manoosh, I beg you, let my sister set you up."

Ellie took that as her cue to leave the room. Sarah and Casey had taken over Manoosh's former cave, now that he was allowed free rein of the lab, so she went where the sane voices were.

"–every bus station, subway, and traffic light camera within a mile of the restaurant, and we still don't–oh, hi, Ellie."

Multiple screens were flashing in front of both agents, but Ellie couldn't imagine that they were actually seeing anything in them. Probably some software looking at it, possibly Chuck was seeing it too. "No luck, huh?"

"This is just part one," said Casey. "Then we start pulling up the rocks, until we find out which one they're hiding under."

Ellie's phone rang. She backed out of the room to answer it. "Hello?"

"Babe, you gotta come home," said Devon, sounding panicked. "The Eagle has landed."

"The who has what?" asked Ellie. Who was the Eagle this time? Suddenly she thought she knew. "Devon, are you all right?" She lowered her voice. "My mother's not there, is she?"

He got awfully quiet, too. "Not your mother, El. _Mine_."

Oh God. Honey Woodcombe, early as usual. Went straight to the house and was probably already cleaning it. Still, at least she wasn't a fugitive aider and abettor. Ellie found the thought strangely comforting. "I'll be right there," she promised him. He sounded like he was freaking out a little. "Thanks for warning me."

"Just get home stat."

Honey couldn't have picked a worse time to get in, Chuck needed family around him right now, but that family was more than just her, still hard to believe after twenty years. She allowed herself a moment to listen to that family, that team, do what it did best. Ellie quickly said her goodbyes, grabbed her coat and flashed a reminder to Manoosh, to do the download in time. The more stressful the subject, the shorter the upload periods she would allow, and she couldn't think of a more stressful pursuit than this one.

* * *

One quick drive home later…

_Target acquired._ The woman in the black sports car smiled behind her binoculars.

* * *

Ellie turned in alarm as the speeding sports car suddenly veered toward her, but to her surprise it stopped right in front of her. "Get in," said Frost loudly, pointing a pistol at her.

"Mom?" Ellie couldn't believe she was seeing this. "Are you crazy? First you abandon us, and then you come back and shoot Chuck? Am I next?" She flattened her shirt against her bulging tummy. "This isn't a bulletproof vest, you know."

"Don't be silly, sweetheart, this is just for show." Frost tilted the gun to show Ellie the slot where the magazine should have been. "Your husband is watching."

_And panicking. _For once he'll be glad his mom is there. "Why should I get in, then?"

"No reason," said Frost, shrugging. "I can always come inside with you and have a long chat with your mother-in-law instead."

Ellie got in the car. In her picture window she could see both Devon and Honey as well, shocked and horrified, but neither of them stupid enough to attempt a rescue. She flashed a quick 'telephone' gesture as she opened the door. Even if Honey called the police, after the fiasco with Shaw last year they'd hand the case off to the right people.

The car sped off and Ellie fumbled for the seatbelt. "Don't forget to press your emergency signal," said her mother casually, putting the empty gun down. "You're being kidnapped, remember?" She waited until Ellie had pressed the stud firmly. "That's my girl."

"Mom…"

"So, how far along are you?"

* * *

Chuck was just beginning his prescribed rest period after the download when the alarm came in. Without his sister there to override him, he jumped out of bed and raced down the hall. "What?"

"It's Ellie," said Sarah. "She's activated her emergency beacon. We're tracking her now."

"I'll load up."

"No you won't," said Manoosh, standing behind him.

Chuck turned on the younger nerd. "What are you talking about? This is Ellie! I have to help save her! Load me up."

"Sorry, Chuck, I can't," said Manoosh. "You know as well as I do that the upload needs to be encoded first. Even if I start it now it'll be at least an hour to finish, but that's with a trimmed dataset, and I'd have to trim it first."

"Well, then, what are you waiting for?" said Casey.

Manoosh ran off, and Sarah turned to her husband. "We're going after her. You may not have the Intersect but we still need you to run the op, so get running."

Chuck grinned. "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

"What do you _mean_, Chuck really is Mr. Charles?" She could ignore the fact that Mr. Charles had to be someone's son, until that someone was her. "My son in danger? A spy? I won't have it."

"You don't have a vote." Not that Ellie didn't agree. "You left us. You chose being a spy over being a mother. I am the only parent Chuck has, and I _will_ have it. In fact I insist on it."

Frost smiled. "You sound like me."

"Mom, don't take this the wrong way, because I really hope it hurts a lot, but everything I know about being a mother I learned from remembering you and not doing a single damn thing that you did."

It hurt. A lot. The car came to a screeching halt. "Out."

Ellie looked around, completely unaware of where she was. Shipping containers everywhere. "You're abandoning me again?" Here?

Frost opened her door. "Out."

Ellie followed. "Where are we?"

"Come with me," said her mother, walking in among the crates where the car couldn't go."It's too late for a teddy bear or a new dress, but how about a Mother's Day present instead?"

* * *

"Him _and_ his lab?" said Chuck, a little shaky with relief. This op hadn't needed so much running that he didn't worry himself sick anyway.

Across the lab, Manoosh went 'Yes!', grinning broadly. That was his Boss.

"Yeah," said Chuck. "We'll be here. Take your time, do it right." He clicked off and immediately entered Devon's number. No way he'd let him suffer a minute longer than he had to. Passing the story along to someone else–he was positively giddy!

The perfect mood. "Project?" asked Manoosh.

The perfect idea. "Project!"

* * *

"Chuck," called Manoosh over the intercom. "Shut it down, they're here."

Chuck didn't shut it down, he didn't have the time to save it all, so he did the next best thing. He hit the door control, since the screens had to be clear before it would open. He walked out right in front of Ellie.

"There you are, little brother," she said. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not the one who got kidnapped, sis."

"Exactly," she said. "You don't have nearly as much experience worrying about me as I do worrying about you. What were you doing in the Intersect room?"

Fortunately Chuck already had an answer ready. "Do you realize that even with all the resources the government has at its disposal, there is only one video about Matango the Fungus of Terror to be found anywhere?"

Ellie rolled her eyes. _That's my brother. _"Well, fortunately you can shelve that research, Mom gave us Wheelwright and his toxin. General Beckman wants me to do the initial review while she puts together a proper team."

"Wait, she shoots me and then hands her asset over to you? Since when did Mom start playing favorites like that?"

"Since she found out you were Mr. Charles and had to make it look good for her boss, Volkoff." She made room as Casey walked by, carrying a large box.

"Wait, you brought him here?"

"Yeah, I know," said Ellie. "We're not equipped to hold anyone securely but she wanted to keep this whole thing contained, until she finds out if this toxin really could do what Mom said."

"…probably smart."

"Don't worry, Chuck. I've got a haz-mat suit, and my office seals, although keeping the poison gas _in_ wasn't the original idea. Sarah and Casey have the real problem. Apparently this Wheelwright guy put together at least one delivery vehicle, and they have to disarm it."

* * *

"Hello again, Doctor."

Wheelwright looked up at his new captor, as the old one went to join her partner disassembling the device. "So that conniving bitch was plotting with you all along?"

"You might want to watch how you talk about my mother, Doctor."

Wheelwright sneered in disgust. Both men looked over at the sound of a vacuum seal hissing open.

"Okay," said Sarah. "Let's get that detonator." Suddenly a panel popped out, with a timer. "Casey!"

The big man grunted. "Another booby-trap? Chuck, get him over here." As Chuck walked the prisoner to the bench Casey fetched the gas masks. "Well, we've got three masks and four of us. If that booby-trap goes off, Doctor, guess who gets exposed."

"Well played," snarled Wheelwright. He pressed his thumb to the panel and the timer stopped. "There you go, perfectly safe."

Casey dumped the masks on the table. "Put him back." Suddenly the timer beeped and he looked down, to see it counting down at great speed. No time for masks. "Chuck, get her out of here!"

Chuck grabbed Sarah as Sarah grabbed Chuck and they both pushed each other out the door. Wheelwright watched them go calmly, then turned back to see his device go off–

Inside a clear acrylic box, as Casey held the door shut. The box filled with colored gas, but none was leaking out. "Clever, Doctor," he said, "But not–"

Wheelwright sprayed him in the face with what looked like a rescue inhaler, then stood back and watched as Casey started to tremble. "Your hands are shaking. That's how it begins…"

Chuck and Sarah came back into the room, when the alarms failed to go off.

Casey lashed out, smacking Wheelwright's hand and sending the fake inhaler flying towards Sarah. As she caught it, Wheelwright stepped around his victim, tugging gently on the unlocked door of the containment box. It popped open, spewing bluish vapors everywhere.

_Now_ the alarms went off.

Wheelwright just watched as his toxin surrounded them all. "Oops."

* * *

**A/N2 **Oh dear. All of them? Whatever will they do?**  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N **I never really liked the terror Chuck displayed in canon, so I played it a little more for laughs here. Casey and Sarah never got gassed, either, but I think this is pretty close to what would happen. **  
**

* * *

"_I'm going to teach you the real meaning of fear." _

"_Sarah doesn't do face-burying."_

"_You sound like me." _

"_Oops."_

* * *

Fog rose around them, and the light grew dim. That was an automatic response of the alarm system, to dim the lights, so as to make everyone's eyesight a bit sharper. At least, that was the theory, When the enemy hazard was foggy and toxic, good eyesight didn't help so much.

"Ahh!" said Chuck, as the mist stung his eyes, burned his throat. "What have you done?" Danger! _Danger, Will Robinson. _Danger all around! A coffeepot! He could burn his hand on that, and whose idea was it to put chairs on wheels anyway? "Sarah, get back!" He tried to get her away, but those were swinging doors back there! They could pinch!

"Boo!" said Wheelwright in his face, grimacing, leering. _Not so tough now, are you?_ Chuck jerked and fell to the floor, scooting backwards to the wall. Nice strong walls. Nothing could attack him there. Unless they gave way. "Ah!"

* * *

Something moved in the mist, shouting in terror. "Chuck!" she yelled, and he flinched, a mighty spasm not as effective nor as stylish as the Morgan. As a spy Sarah was well acquainted with fear. Fear wasn't something to be ignored or conquered, not in her line of work. Fear is a warning, and a good spy heeded those warnings.

Sarah was a good spy. Wasn't she?

_I'm a spy, I can get through this!_ That's what they taught them in spy school. How to use fear, make it work for them. _Chuck's never been to spy school! _He had no training. Oh God, he'll fall apart. It was all up to her. Up to her. Her hands were shaking. All up to her and all she could think about was her poor husband God I'm so weak! How can I call myself a spy when I'm so weak! I have to do something! But she couldn't get herself to move, couldn't make herself do any of the things she knew she ought to be doing and that scared her even more. She couldn't even make fear work for her.

"Your hands are shaking," said Wheelwright. "That's how it begins."

He knew! Of course he knew. He knew and he'd opened the door anyway. "You exposed us all! Why would you do that?" He had to know how to beat it, how to fight it. Had to have an antidote…

"I gave in to the insanity," said Wheelwright. "Now I'm not afraid of anything. So the question is, what scares you?" He stuck his face close to Sarah's and she shrieked at the suddenness of it.

* * *

The sound cut right through Chuck, right through the fog.

Chuck didn't flash. The world flashed, a blinding light that pushed all the fear away, all the emotion.

He was in a room. He knew this place, he'd been here before. The world was a screen, a window, and he stood in the silence and the solitude, watching, analyzing, evaluating. The room rocked. Something pounded on the door.

The toxin.

He had to save Sarah, that's why he was here, in this place that had been so empty for so long. The room shook again. The Intersect was useful, but not enough. It was a tool, but he needed more than just a tool. _Carmichael, I need you now._

Carmichael was long gone, dissolved, destroyed, absorbed into the mind that made him. Now Chuck took those parts and wrapped himself in the skin of his smallest, hardest, most durable self, a shield against the fear.

* * *

As the mists rose around them, Sarah knew that she had failed. Failed utterly.`

Who was she trying to fool?

Was she a spy, or was she a wife? She didn't know! _it's all in my head. It's all in my head, and I have to fight it._

Wheelwright came back, a bag over his shoulder with his device inside. "Now, Agent Whatever your name is, if you get me out of here, I will consider taking you to the antitoxin."

An antidote! She was saved. Chuck was saved! _I thought of myself first! What kind of a wife am I?_

Wheelwright grabbed her arm and turned her to the door, those swinging, pinching doors, when suddenly a shape loomed up out of the darkness. "Excuse me," said Chuck, giving Wheelwright a solid push. The smaller scientist went reeling backward, but Chuck didn't care. He could move, he could act, but he didn't know how long that would last. He took his wife into his arms. "Trust me, Sarah."

Sarah couldn't move, couldn't act. Almost couldn't trust, but…this was Chuck! He was her life, her soul, the one she could trust when she could trust nothing else, not even herself. She nodded, barely noticeable over the trembling.

Chuck kissed her, one of the world's six most perfect kisses, a kiss that would put her off flying for the rest of her life. The essence of Charles Bartowski was in that kiss, the passion of his lips, the gentleness of his touch, the strength and safety of his arms.

Sarah closed her eyes against the nightmares, experienced the haven he offered in his touch, his warmth, the scent of him, so familiar. _Lub-Dub_. Her pulse strengthened, faster. She knew the sound of his breathing, his weight, his height, the perfection of him for her, and she molded herself into that perfection.

Together they held each other's fear at bay.

* * *

Wheelwright stumbled backward in the gloom and tripped, the weight of his device pulling him down. A leg! Oh yes, that behemoth. The owner of the leg had taken refuge under the desk. Should be a quivering hunk of jelly by now. "You'll do nicely," said the doctor, grabbing the limb. "Come on out, lummox."

A hand swung down, knife at the ready, narrowly missing Wheelwright's arm as he squeaked backward. Casey was afraid. Casey didn't like being afraid.

"What the hell is wrong with you people?" shouted Wheelwright, backing off as Casey came out to drive his demons away. The fearmonger fled past Chuck and Sarah, still wrapped in each other and oblivious to all else. Casey followed, but when he caught sight of the two lovers entwined, he flinched, hands raised against the naked emotion, and retreated back to his cave.

Wheelwright fell through the swinging doors, jumping back as they flapped back and forth menacingly, and looked down the hall. Empty, white, with a few doors to check. Something had to lead out of here! He crept down the hall, and tried the first door he came to, but it was locked, beyond locked.

Something moved in the window, something not human! He jerked back, shouting, and ran away down the hall.

* * *

Ellie muttered something unladylike under her breath as the faceplate of her suit whacked into the door yet again, not wanting to hear herself use such language. The bad guy was loose. Probably staged some kind of gas attack and she was stuck in here while everyone else was probably shaking themselves to death! She had to get out, had to do…what?

Really, what could she do? She couldn't even keep her hair out of her eyes. God, she hated hazmat suits. She blew out and up, trying to get it out of her face.

Well, whatever she could do, she'd better be ready to do it when that door opened. She had the notes, the raw materials. She'd think of something.

Where the hell was Manoosh?

* * *

Wheelwright eventually discovered a lounge area, and a soda machine that looked more heavily protected than Fort Knox. _Who _does_ this? _He spent a few moments checking it for surprises, but finally decided someone just wanted their soda kept safe. Really, really safe.

No wonder his toxin wasn't working as expected. What a bunch of weirdoes.

He heard a sound, a familiar one. An elevator! Someone was using the elevator. He had to hide! The lounge was no good, everything snug against walls. Had to go back. Back!

He jerked to a halt when the door came in sight, the one with the monster, but there was another door here, standing open. Tiled walls and floor, no cover, no one waiting to pounce. He slipped inside, and shut the door.

The screens started to flicker as Chuck's program resumed.

* * *

Carina came out of the elevator, suited up and gun at the ready. The alarms were on, the lights were low, but nothing looked out of place. Like that mattered. The damn helmet obscured her side-vision, though, but they had training in how to move under those conditions. She just had to move slowly and carefully, sticking close to the walls. She tugged on the doors to Ellie's office but they were sealed as they should have been. She knocked.

Ellie's masked face came to the window, like some alien monster. "Carina! The others are in Manoosh's lab, They were trying to disarm the device but I guess it went off somehow. I saw Wheelwright creeping around, too."

"You think he's got an antidote?" Ellie tapped her ear. Carina upped her volume and repeated herself.

"I hope so, but his notes don't mention one. He went to a lot of trouble to suppress the body's natural response mechanisms, though, so that might help."

Help _her_, maybe. "What does that mean?"

Ellie used short words. "When you're afraid your body reacts, mostly with adrenaline. You want to run, you want to fight, so it gears up to do either one. This toxin suppresses that. The victim experiences all the fear and the stress of fear with no normal way to relieve it. They just stand there and shake, or go insane."

Better than up and shooting, if this was supposed to be a combat gas. "How do I get them adrenaline?"

Ellie thought about what she would have available out there, since all the adrenaline and syringes were locked in here with her. "Um, coffee or soda, anything with caffeine in it."

Hazmat suits don't have pockets for spare change. "Have you _seen_ that soda machine?" Plus good luck getting them to drink it.

"I made the soda machine, Manoosh likes to get clever." Dammit. "Make them mad, if you can."

Carina shifted the gun to her left hand, so she could gesture at herself with the right. "You're asking me if I can make Casey mad?" The only person she could never make mad was Chuck, which bothered her a bit.

"Okay, stupid question. Try to survive your incredible success."

Carina looked less smug. "Good point." She hurried away, less concerned now about Wainwright, Cartwright, whatever his name was, than she was about the rest of her team.

She pushed through the doors and stopped, struck speechless by the sight of Chuck and Sarah, practically melted into each other and completely ignoring her. _Looks like they found their own solution._

Now, where was Casey?

She followed the growling, but she didn't follow it far.

"Hey, Casey," she said loudly, pulling up a chair some distance away. "Good for you, getting in touch with your inner cave-Marine." That went over like a lead balloon. The small kind. Chuck had once told her the large ones could fly, as if she'd ever wanted to know. "I know! While we're here, how about I tell you all about our–" her voice slowed down, drawing out ever delicious syllable "–wonderful adventure in Costa Gravas. Not that petty little story of betrayal and the revolution, of course, but the real danger," Oh, the throaty purr she put behind 'real', "When Alex gave Morgan that _verrry_ private showing of all her _exxtra_-special bikinis, the small ones, you know, not that burqa she wore to the beach, in his _ssspecial_ private luxurious room."

"Graahh!" Casey exploded out of his cave. Carina kicked her wheeled chair at him, but he batted it aside and kept coming, taking her neck in his hands.

She popped his elbows and jabbed him in the throat, kicking him in the nuts for good measure as he staggered back. "You're welcome!" She ran away, and he chased after her, dodging around the Statue of the Entwined Lovers in the middle of the room. She ran through the swinging doors and he was right behind her–

The doors caught him in the face as they closed. He hit them back and plowed into the hallway, just in time to get shot. Two darts in the chest, courtesy of Carina's tranq gun. "You'll thank me in the morning, Casey."

Behind her, the door to the Intersect room flew open, and Wheelwright ran out behind her, screaming, "Ballroom dancing! Public speeches! AAAhh!"

He ran right past Carina, not even noticing her, and Casey clotheslined him, dropping him flat on his back on the linoleum.

Carina winced. "That's gonna hurt."

Casey reached up and pulled the two darts from his chest. "Thanks."

Carina backed away, not quite pointing her gun at him, but not ready to shake hands and make friends yet either. As she approached the door it opened again, and she raised her gun, but it was only Manoosh, yawning. Possibly the least threatening figure she'd ever seen in her life. "Where the hell have you been?"

The sudden appearance of a helmeted apparition didn't faze him in the slightest. "They kicked me out of my lab, so I took a nap. Chuck's got a cot in there." He looked her up and down. "What are you dressed up as?"

"There's toxic vapor all over your lab, doofus, can't you hear the alarms?"

He looked up, suddenly noticing the claxons and the lights. "Toxic vapor? Cool!" He tried to edge past her, eager to see.

"And Chuck and Sarah kissing," she added.

"Uhh…" He drew up short. "Maybe I'll wait for that."

* * *

Manoosh appeared in the entrance to the little lounge area. "More coffee, people, drink up. Doctor's orders."

"What happened to you?" asked Chuck, noticing the band-aid on his thumb.

"Burnt my hand on the coffee-maker," said the younger nerd, shrugging. "I wouldn't have bothered, but the Boss insisted on the bandage."

Chuck looked up as Ellie appeared in the doorway, tray in hand. "Yeah, my sister can be like that."

"She's more of a mom than my mom ever was."

"Here, Manoosh, let me get that for you," said Sarah, taking the pot. Ellie took advantage of all the fuss and clatter to vanish for a bit. "You've done enough. If you hadn't reversed the air conditioning and unsealed the doors, we'd still be in there kissing."

Chuck spluttered into his cup, spraying warm coffee everywhere. "Hey!"

She poured him some more. "Sorry, sweetie, but my lips are really sore."

Chuck would have smiled, but his lips were sore too. "Maybe we can rub noses, like the Eskimos do."

"Maybe you can let that wait a few minutes, little brother," said Ellie coming into the room, eyes glistening. She sniffed. "I have to get some more blood samples, for the breakdown study." She pulled out the needle and Chuck fainted. "Again?"

* * *

"He reversed the air conditioning?" asked Beckman.

"Yes, ma'am," said Carina. "Once the gas was mostly gone the alarm shut off and Ellie was able to give everyone their shots." She hadn't gotten a visual but she would treasure the memory of Chuck braying like a mule forever.

Beckman had other concerns. "So now that toxin is in the open?"

"No, ma'am," said Casey. "The filtration on the air handler system caught it." Those filters caught everything.

Check. "And Wheelwright?"

"Raving about corsages, don't ask. Casey had to tranq him so the straitjacket team could work."

Beckman looked like she was about to ask anyway, but contented herself with, "Good work, team."

Carina stood up when the screen blanked, but Casey didn't. "Miller. You meet with my contact?"

She kept her back turned. "You could have told me he would come in hot and heavy. Fortunately I used Martin as a magnet and got the drop on him."

_Heh._ Bet he loved that. "You got the file?"

"Yeah, I got the file. Chuck's mother is as dirty as they come, went rogue twenty years ago. Wait until I leave the building before you tell him." She started walking.

"Miller. How much of what you said to me in there was true?"

She didn't stop. "Is that _any_ of your business?"

* * *

"Yes, Chuck, it's the last one."

He rolled down his sleeves with much rejoicing.

"You've had worse," sneered Manoosh.

"Had worse?" Chuck protested. "My arm's off!"

"It's just a flesh wound."

Chuck laughed. "Yeah, the real butchery is what we just did to that scene."

Manoosh accepted the critique with a sigh. "Yeah, I used to know all the cheeses before I came down here."

"You too?"

"Boys, take it outside," said Ellie.

"Yes, Mother," said the two grown nerds in unison. Ellie smiled.

Sarah came in. "You ready to go, Chuck?"

"Just a second." He pulled on his coat.

"Can we take your car?"

She didn't want to drive? "Are you all right, Sarah?" asked Ellie.

"I'm okay, Ellie," said Sarah, nodding. "I don't want to be alone just now."

The doctor gave her the once over, and smiled. "I can understand that. And this way you can cover for each other if any sudden symptoms hit. Let me know if anything happens."

Yes. Great. Thanks. "Can we go now?"

"Anything you want, wife."

Sarah kept her hands in her pockets, gripping her keys tightly. They began to shake. That's how it began.

* * *

**A/N2 **Why on Earth would Wheelwright have made an antitoxin? That tossed-off line at the end of the episode in canon just cried out for an improvement, plus it really sets up the rest of the season nicely. This is the end of part 1.**  
**


End file.
